


Unexpected

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: run_the_con, F/F, Fic, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:57:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>El still isn't sure how they ended up here, with her back against the bookcase and Diana leaning into her with one hand in El's hair, one curved under El's ass, tugging her closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Contains references to Peter/Neal. For run_the_con's porn round, for rabidchild's prompt "Wet".
> 
> Words cannot express how much it isn't what I intended to write. And my beta is sick. So... here goes nothing. :-)

## Unexpected

 _I didn't plan for this to happen._ The words are crowded on El's tongue, but she doesn't have breath to say them and she knows if she did get them out, Diana would stop. They'd have to talk about this, be sensible. El doesn't want to be sensible.

Peter has Neal. He's always said if El found someone else too, he was fine with that, it was only fair. Of course, he didn't think it would be Diana, and El still isn't sure how they ended up here, with her back against the bookcase and Diana leaning into her with one hand in El's hair, one curved under El's ass, tugging her closer. El knows there's something twisted in the power dynamics—she's married to Diana's boss—but Diana started this, doesn't seem troubled by the imbalance at all. With her smooth biceps shifting under El's palm, and her teeth scraping the soft skin below El's ear, El can't care either. They'll sort it out later. Right now, she's burning, needs this more than logic or reason. Diana nips at the base of her throat, and El gasps and grabs Diana's head, brings her up and kisses her hard. 

El doesn't want to be the ingénue here. Sure, she hasn't had sex with a woman before, but she's hardly a virgin. She knows her own mind, what she wants, what feels good. And this feels really—"good" is too pale a word. It feels illicit and erotic and borderline frantic. She slides her tongue into Diana's hot mouth, meeting her tongue, tasting red wine and desire, and lets her hand drift deliberately to Diana's breast.

Diana lets out a small, articulated grunt and arches into El's touch. She's wearing a vest over her blouse, and the parallels with Peter and Neal strike again, making El's breath hitch in a silent laugh. But she doesn't think Diana would appreciate the comparison, so she swallows that thought and forces her hands between them to unbutton the vest, uncover Diana's chest. El has a sudden need to suck Diana's nipple. 

Diana breathes a curse and pulls back further, drawing a thin, embarrassing whine of disappointment from El as she goes. El's about to recover herself, to gather her dignity, when Diana gently firmly turns her against the bookcase and starts working open the small buttons of El's red silk blouse. 

The bookcase is not the most comfortable vertical surface—there's a wall only a couple of feet to El's right, nice and flat, but El's eyes flutter open and she finds herself face to face with a framed photo of Peter and Neal, their prom picture. It's kind of reassuring to have it there: a reminder that this may technically be adultery, but it's not cheating. Then Diana draws a line between El's shoulder blades with her tongue, swears and murmurs El's name. The wet skin cools quickly under Diana's words. El shivers and closes her eyes, and it's just the two of them again, the rest of the world distant and hazy.

It isn't love. Well, she doesn't think it is, though she's not really sure what love would feel like mixed up in her deep commitment to Peter and her fond affection for Neal. Diana is an unknown quantity in a lot of ways—experienced, self-contained, slightly dangerous. That's part of the appeal. El has been staring at her tattoo all evening, dying to know if Diana has any others. Secret ones. Hidden ones. What else is written on her body. Anyway, the point is El can't tell if this is a one-time deal or if in a few weeks' time it will feel natural and familiar. She imagines waking up in a strange bed with Diana's head between her legs, and she throbs with a distinct, insistent lust. She flashes wildly on the notion of Diana fucking her awake with an object—a dildo, anything. Diana kneeling over her, Diana's strong slim wrists flexing as she shoves it into El, harder and harder, till El's arms are braced against the wall above her head and she's dripping wet, soaking the sheets with sweat and sex, still wrapped up in the last wisps of her dreams.

Maybe someday. Maybe not. Right now, what matters is that Diana is releasing El's bra, spreading her hands across El's back, down, lower to the curve of her waist, obviously savoring the curves and planes of El's body. The slack lace of El's bra rasps against her tight nipples, and she figures it's time to ask for what she needs. She shrugs out of her blouse and bra, lets them fall to the floor and turns topless in Diana's arms. Diana's vest is gone, her breasts taut and pointed. It's plain she's not wearing a bra, and El dips her head and sucks Diana's nipple through the white cotton of Diana's t-shirt. 

Diana surges forward, and okay, the bookcase is no longer the right venue for this encounter. El's legs are weak with desire, she needs to spread her knees, she needs more. She rubs her thumb across Diana's lips and meets her eye. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"

Diana looks back, her eyes are dark and heavy, her cheeks flushed. "I want you," she says.

El's chest swells with the heat of mutual lust. She feels her own color rise. She kisses Diana and pushes her into the armchair behind them. Diana's coat is slung over the back, but that doesn't matter. She means to kneel in front of Diana, between her legs, but before El can even take off the rest of her clothes, Diana grabs her by the wrist and pulls her across Diana's lap. El instinctively puts one arm around Diana's neck, and for a second, she's aware she's heavier than Diana, she might be squashing her, but then Diana's kissing her again, and Diana's hand is smoothing up El's thigh under her skirt. 

El exclaims into Diana's mouth. She doesn't know what she's saying, whether it means anything or makes any sense. Her entire focus is on Diana's fingers trailing back and forth over sensitive skin, inching towards El's cunt. Nothing else matters. El squirms down, trying to hurry Diana's progress, but Diana's teasing her, she thinks. And aha, maybe the way to hurry her along is to reciprocate, at least in part. El insinuates her hand under Diana's t-shirt and cups her soft, smooth breast, leans in and nibbles on her earlobe. 

Diana gives a satisfying gasp and oh, yes, her hand has reached its destination, exactly there, negotiating El's underwear and sliding into her aching body. And on the outside Diana's thumb is doing everything right, at once delicate and firm. _Experienced,_ thinks El dizzily. _Maybe psychic. Jesus._ El's body is molten glass, glowing, twisting, consuming all the oxygen in the room, and Diana's fingers are shaping her from the inside out. Three fingers, El guesses. Three, and that glorious thumb rubbing at the edges of her clit, nudging her, making pleasure flicker like lightning. If Diana's this good with her hands, her mouth must be out of this world.

The air is thick with the scent of sex and faint traces of Diana's spicy perfume. Scored with the harsh sounds of their breathing. El thinks she might hyperventilate if she doesn't come soon.

"You know, this is a really good look on you," murmurs Diana, and El blinks her eyes open and looks down at herself, mostly naked, her skirt rucked around her hips, debauched and messy. 

She raises an eyebrow at Diana. "Whereas you have—oh, god—far too many clothes on still." Or that's what she means to say. The end of the sentence is lost in a low growl El can't control. Diana twists her fingers, and something tightens in El, bright and intense like the spark before an explosion. This is going to be incredible. "If you stop now, I'll die."

"I won't stop," Diana promises against El's lips. "Trust me."

And it's so exactly what Neal would say, El almost chokes with laughter, but the humor dies in her throat because that's it, she's there, crimson and darkness gathering and swirling, taut and violent in its intensity. El buries her face in Diana's hair and cries out, her heart thundering in her ears, pushing down down down on Diana's hand, grinding against Diana's thumb, throbbing so hard her whole body shudders.

It lasts forever. She is helpless and shameless, utterly undone. Diana can do whatever she wants with her, anything, El doesn't care as long as they go the distance, all the way. The need drops off a little, and the second wave begins to build, a warm golden swell of satisfaction that rises and rises, soaking into El's skin, making her limp. Words babble from her lips as she begs Diana to keep going, and she clutches Diana's shoulders, holding on, letting it grow and overwhelm her, and this time, it's total release, waves crashing on the shore and receding, and El is driftwood, washed clean and smooth and damp. 

El's throat hurts. Her mouth is dry. She feels _fantastic_. She takes a long, deep breath and raises her head to look blearily at Diana, who is obviously both smug and still aroused. Slowly, she grasps Diana's wrist and pulls her hand free. The tips of Diana's fingers brush El's skin, pruned from being deep inside El's cunt.

"Wow," says El, hoarsely. "Uh, gimme a minute."

Diana runs a gentle hand over El's collarbone to her waist. "Take your time, gorgeous."

El kisses her. She just needs a minute or two, a chance to catch her breath. Then she'll suggest they go upstairs. The bed is wide and comfortable, and El has a vibrator and lube—maybe Diana will let her use those. Or she can try licking Diana and see if she tastes as good as she smells. El wants to—right now, it seems like one of the sexiest things she could do. And however they manage it, with toys or hands or her mouth, El wants to discover what it's like to make Diana come. What sounds spill from her lips. Whether she softens and smiles and gets goofy when she's post-coital and sated. And whether she has any other tattoos.

 

END


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